As Blue As Love Can Be
by Menta Bolseiro
Summary: The story behind the mask: the life of Petyr Baelish. The lonely and dreamy boy, the best player in the game of thrones. From early childhood until adulthood, here lies his true thoughts and feelings. A boy taken, from the beginning, by a love as deep as the immensity of the sea, and as sad as its destiny. "I loved a maiden as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair."


This fanfic was originally written in portuguese.

The translation credits belongs to Helena (find her on tumblr: diaryofanobsessivefangirl).

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

_"Go, my son. Your grandfather would be proud. Go, you will see how everything will be better; you will be created by some real great lord, who will provide justice to you full potential."_

_With this, Lord Baelish leaned and gave his son a long hug. He whispered into his ears. "Listen, watch and learn. I'm giving you a chance with which I was never blessed. You will be much greater than me, my boy. Farewell."_

Arriving on horseback, after days of travel to Riverrun, past green pastures, large hills, forests and numerous villages, accompanied by Hoster Tully's brother and his entourage, which made the kindness to come pick him up, he remembered his father's last words once more. The boy felt simultaneously nervous, angry, rejected, abandoned, and apprehensive, and if that wasn't enough, moreover full of expectations. He loved his father as he loved the Fingers, his land, but, though very young, he was smart and cunning enough to begin to understand that his little island and it's tiny coast had no meaning to the world beyond his childhood. _Even to my father_, he thought, somewhat melancholy.

He had no idea of what he would find in this land of this lord so dear by his father; according to him, it was a great honor to have been chosen to be raised along with his children. Few would have the same opportunity since only some had the honor of being friends of Hoster Tully, heir of an enviable lineage, great lord of the Riverlands. Lord Baelish, his father, was not only of value to him in vassalage, but also loyal in the field of battle, and gave him a true friendship for all times.

A thin rain fell on the banks of the Trident. Now they were at the borders of Riverrun's castle, and a gray dawn was rising over the high ramparts. The young man watched the scene, while his skin felt the light touch of fine droplets of morning's drizzle. Meanwhile, the knights guarding the gates moved to make way for a more imposing figure.

The Tully Lord came in person to welcome them, followed by his squire, Maester and some others which the boy could not recognize just by look. He was surprised with such courtesy, since the arrival time was too early. The Lord then greeted his brother and the members of the entourage who accompanied him, and gave a slight and cordial smile to the boy, who realized that the time for presentations would take place within the castle. They passed by large gardens in the midst of still larger groves, surrounded by creeks, shady trees and beds of high-backed flowers, blue and red, disposed over very green lawns. There was great diversity in the plants and gardens arranged there. Everything was incredibly well maintained and inspired wealth. They walked through white stone trails arranged with all delicacy on the lawn, and so they were taken to the Great Hall.

They entered by a very high, lapis lazuli gate, with bronze details. Inside there was a makeshift breakfast table, placed especially for the newcomers travelers. The boy devoured with his eyes the room he had just walked in, greatly astonished; countless banners with the Tully's colors and the leaping trout, in a red and blue background. By the walls and countertops one could see the typical decoration of the south-central regions of Westeros: much thin and light wooden furniture, deep upholstered and many rich metals, serving as framework and ornamentation. Lots of silver, bronze and gold was there from the cutlery to the frames of the age-old paintings. It was an old and luxurious environment, and you could see that the family took its motto very seriously. The most disturbing details were the several Tully lords's large oil portraits that overhang widely in the large stone walls. Family, duty, honor. His father had taught him some little knowledge of the Tully's habits and history and, indeed, he was not entirely wrong. After being thrown in such a new and different place, compared to his house in the Fingers, he felt very nervous and didn't even get to eat.

He was so out of his normal that, later, he didn't quite recall the presentation's rites to his new Lord and the vows of loyalty and vassalage. Despite providing all them well, with the best bearing he managed, the memory of Lord Tully, proud and noble, was mingling with his father's sad face, simple and melancholy, when he bid farewell, leaving him with the last glimpses of the Fingers. The worst was the feeling that he was left at the mercy of the Tully family's ostentations, that, after everything, seemed to swallow him entirely, as if it were screaming at him to obey them, bow in his insignificance and serve them. What could he do? He was merely a young boy, 10 years old, and, with certain bitterness, he thought: _I feel like a fish out of water._ He made an ironic smile, as he would do many in the future, these that would become classic landmarks of his personality.

After completing all the duties and formalities, he was led to his room. Over there, another surprise. Far from the castle's main bedrooms, and next to not very noble locations: the castle's pantry and kitchen were located almost neighboring to his chamber, and, to top it off, his room was practically on the ground floor. _Apparently, lucky me I'm not the dungeon's neighbor..._ Despite the young age, the boy was able to realize what this meant. He could be a guest, and an aggregate of the castle's lords, but he was not, and never would be, from the same family that a Tully.

He went to bed, longing his father and the simplicity of their lands. At least, there, he was able to feel belonging somewhere...

He woke up a few hours later. He searched for a servant to explain what he should do, but no one answered his call. Mazy, he glanced through a chink in one of the windows and realized that it was already morning. Birds twittered and sang around him. _Mockingbirds. _He recognized the small thrushes flying around, and felt a bit more comforted. _At least they also sing where I was born._ Decreased his suffered rejection, he dressed up and decided to stroll the gardens until he'd meet someone to show him what to do. He passed the yet empty kitchen, and went down by one of the back doors.

Walking through the woods, without envision anyone, he found an oak tree by the river and decided to sit down there to observe the landscape. _At least the same sky contemplates my land too. _It was, now, cerulean blue, like the color of the clean river that passed before him. Contemplative, he remained so for some time, until he get out of his torpor when he heard voices and noises coming: muffled laughter and sounds of running feet.

- No, Cat, I told you, it's your turn to be the monster! I want to be the maid again! Stop being evil and act like a nice sister! – Protested a red-haired and slightly plump girl with freckles on her face and wide eyes. The other girl, to who she was addressing, was approaching, but was further, not yet visible to the boy's eyes.

- Lysa... Stop being spoiled, we already stopped playing this long ago, we played for one hour till we drop. Why don't we go together to look at the birds and gather flowers, for a change?

The girl who spoke came over, stepping out from behind a bush. She wore the same dress as her sister, but she was slimmer and higher, with a face like a porcelain doll. She smiled a little upset, her eyes closed, as if impatient and having fun all at once. Then she opened her eyes, and lifted her gaze. The boy felt as if time had stopped.

There, bewitched, in a stupor, he stared at them: deep eyes, charmed. Blue eyes, a tender cerulean blue. Lakes of beauty and, the boy now realized, in such a sweet and naive way... of the love that drowned him, in which he would plunge forever.


End file.
